


Open Wounds

by argentum_ls (LadySilver)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: Angst, Gen, Missing Scene, Post-"The Watchers", Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-23
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2019-02-18 22:01:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13109376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/argentum_ls
Summary: Horton's efforts to have a say in the outcome of the Game have caught up with him, and Joe has some decisions to make.





	Open Wounds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mackiedockie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackiedockie/gifts).



> Mackie- I wanted to give you so much more than this. Alas, the characters did not cooperate.

God damn it, James. What have you done?

Centuries -- millennia -- of tradition, of silence, of observing and recording and never interfering, had been thrown away. No, worse, they’d been sacrificed--in the most brutal, destructive, and permanent way possible. 

Now James’s body lay sprawled on the warehouse floor. Blood was pooling under James's body from the stab wound in his stomach, while a few feet away lay the bullet-ridden body of the Immortal Duncan MacLeod, his killer.

MacLeod’s death, at least, was only temporary. The same could not be said for those of Robert, Thackery, Darius, and who knew how many others. Mortals and Immortals, all James’s victims. And that only accounted for those he’d killed.

Still echoing through the air was his daughter’s cry, the real question: Why?

Lynn held her father, sobs wracking through her as she alternated calling for him and demanding answers no one had. Just like her mother, she knew nothing of the Watchers nor of Immortals. James had insisted on shielding them from that part of his world, which now left her with no understanding at all of why the two men had killed each other in front of her -- though Joe doubted that knowing more would help right now. It certainly didn’t answer any of his questions.

“Lynn. Sweetheart,” Joe called, trying to capture her attention. He couldn’t bend down to comfort her or to pull her up; his prosthetics didn’t allow that. He also wouldn’t be able to move James’s body on his own. And they needed to get out of here before MacLeod returned to life. Joe inched closer to her, careful where he put his feet so as not to slip. “Lynn.”

She started to look up, then stopped with a gasp. She pressed her fingers against her father’s neck, an abrupt composure falling over her. “He has a pulse,” she stated, quietly, as if not believing her own words. “Uncle Joe, he has a pulse. He’s alive! He’s still alive!”

God damn it, James, Joe thought again. If anything, this was only going to make the situation worse. Now that MacLeod knew who killed Darius, other Immortals would soon learn of it, and it wouldn’t take long before one of them succeeded in killing James permanently. How could he live with himself if he let Lynn believe her father had survived when he had only put a rain check on his death?

“We need to get him to the hospital,” Lynn continued, “Is there a phone? Someone needs to call 911.” She whipped her head around, half-rising to her feet, as if torn between the desire to charge off and make the call herself and to stay until help arrived. It was an internal battle Joe too well understood, and a pointless one. James had brought Duncan to this warehouse because it was well away from anyone who’d notice the Quickening, and abandoned warehouses typically didn’t keep their phone lines connected. Lynn turned plaintive eyes on Joe, with the guilelessness of a child who had absolute faith that all problems could be solved. “Uncle Joe, help him.”

Joe sent a silent prayer upward that he’d think of a solution -- anything -- he could do.

And, as if he’d only needed to ask, an answer came to him. “Jack,” he answered, suddenly remembering the Watcher James had left guarding the perimeter. MacLeod had disarmed Jack on the way in, but he wouldn’t have killed him. That wasn’t the kind of man Duncan was, which was one of the many qualities that made Joe proud to be his Watcher -- and why he knew how wrong James was in his insistence that all Immortals were evil.

Waving a hand in the direction he knew Jack to be, he clarified, “Go get Jack. He can help us get your father out of here.” James wasn’t a large man; even unconscious, a couple strong backs was all they needed to get him out to the car. “I’ll stay here and tend to him.”

Lynn didn’t need to be told again.

As she scrambled off, Joe found himself standing in between the two fallen men, alone. Watchers were adamant about keeping the knowledge of their existence and purpose a secret from their Immortal charges.

_”You talked to one of them?” James had asked, seemingly incredulous, if not outright scandalized at the idea._

In the moment, Joe had been excited at the prospect of new possibilities for the role of the Watchers. He’d spoken to his Immortal like a regular guy talking to a regular guy. He’d considered the idea that they might grab a beer and discuss old books. With a little encouragement, MacLeod might share some of the more salacious details of his life that hadn’t been recorded alongside the menus and fashion notes.

What he hadn’t recognized was the stress James had put on the word _them_.

James didn’t -- perhaps couldn’t -- see Immortals as regular guys. Nor was this viewpoint unique. His beliefs, manifest in his choice to involve himself in the Game, showed why Watchers had to continue to stay separate. 

And Joe was going to be stuck putting the secret back into the box.

Joe’s field medicine skills were rusty and the warehouse was far from a sanitary environment. The air itself felt gritty and heavy with the humidity that came from the proximity to the ocean and the lack of a functioning air conditioner. One could only imagine what germs thrived here. As he glared down at his wounded brother-in-law, it crossed Joe’s mind that he could do more harm with his knowledge than good. But would causing James to die right here, for real, be the harm or the good? 

Hubris was what had brought them all out here: James’s certainty that he knew better than everyone else what the future should be. That was not a mistake Joe was willing to make. No, Joe knew what he had to do.

The gun had landed just outside James’s reach when he fell. Using the crook of his cane, Joe pulled the gun closer, then levered it up high enough that he could reach it. Let Lynn think of his actions what she would.

He drew a breath, steading himself like he was once again in the jungles of Vietnam. Turning, he fired the remaining rounds into MacLeod’s still dead body, resetting whatever clock revival was calculated on.

The reports shattered the stillness, and in the ringing emptiness that followed, Joe didn’t hear Lynn’s footsteps as she returned with her arm around a groggy Jack. He didn’t hear the shout her lips formed. But he couldn’t miss the horror that crossed her face at her initial fear for where those shots went, nor the relief that followed when she saw.

Joe nodded to himself, a confirmation of his decision. MacLeod was his responsibility; the Watchers were his life; but Lynn and James were his family. He had a lot of damage to fix, and he was going to start by helping his family heal.


End file.
